


The Unfortunate Cactus Incident

by JudeAraya



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blow Jobs, Crack, M/M, Phil has a problem, Rimming, Smut, You probably would too, absolute crack fic srsl, also dan shrieking a lot, dan in lingerie is top tier tho, did I mention that?, if you must know, more jerking off, no cactuses or fish were harmed in the writing of this fic, norman wears lingerie quiet well, not as well as dan, oblique referent to omorashi, phil falls for infomercials, smutty things, which includes lack of focus when jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/pseuds/JudeAraya
Summary: Maybe he’d been with Dan too long, or perhaps this show was utter crap, but Phil was as skeptical as most when being told he could make his wishes appear if he only followed the five practices outlined in Doctor Charlatan’s newest book, called “Manifesting Your Desires.” Original. At least the book came with a money back guarantee.Perhaps the good doctor was manifesting herself some money though, because before he knew what he was doing, Phil had ordered her book despite his initial skepticism.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 28
Kudos: 46





	The Unfortunate Cactus Incident

**Author's Note:**

> We can only blame this on Loz and Amy. I can't take responsibility for this utter insanity. Other than like, chosing to write it. This has not been beta read so all inevitable mistakes are mine.
> 
> ***this fic has been nominated for Best Crack!fic in the Phanfic Awards 2020 (thanks guys!). If you want to vote for it before Jan 15th, head over [here](https://phanficawards.tumblr.com/post/638591775241633792/)! ***

Later, Phil would blame two things: Dan and insomnia. Sure, nothing would have happened were it not for the insomnia, but since he was determined to blame the insomnia on Dan, he felt comfortable blaming Dan. 

Long story short, if Dan hadn’t dicked Phil down so well he couldn’t sleep for _hours_ , Phil never would have gotten sucked into this mess. 

His argument made no logical sense, something Dan pointed out rather heatedly as they tried to think of a way to untangle poor Norman from the wet lace trailing behind him. In Phil’s opinion, trying to use logic just then was pretty fucked. Their _fish_ was wearing tiny fish lingerie after all.

* * *

Usually it was Dan who struggled with sleep, but that particular night Dan had been dead asleep after a spectacularly good fuck that had left Phil wide awake, tingling and unable to settle. 

Even though Phil had been a little--okay a lot--annoyed with Dan’s sudden ability to sleep, leaving Phil _alone_ and _bored_ with only a fish, some shrimp and countless snails to talk to, Phil did the only other thing he thought might make him tired. He turned on the telly and flipped through channels quickly, stopping only when he caught an interesting snippet of dialogue

“... you might have psychic powers?

“Yes,” Phil said to Norman. Unlike Dan, Norman had never judged Phil’s belief in things like the supernatural. 

It turned out that the program was more about manifesting your desires than being psychic, with the only requirement for manifesting said desires was an inherent psychic ability. Maybe he’d been with Dan too long, or perhaps this show was utter crap, but Phil was as skeptical as most when being told he could make his wishes appear if he only followed the five practices outlined in Doctor Charlatan’s newest book, called “Manifesting Your Desires.” Original. At least the book came with a money back guarantee.

Perhaps the good doctor was manifesting herself some money though, because before he knew what he was doing, Phil had ordered her book despite his initial skepticism.

Thankfully, soon after he was finally able to crash face first onto his pillow, sleeping hard and deep. Hard enough--that’s what he said--that Phil completely forgot about the incident until a week later when the book arrived with the post. Phil thanked every god that didn’t exist and one that he supposed could if you were naturally inclined toward suspension of disbelief in real life, that Dan wasn’t home when he opened the package. He’d intended to toss it in the bin, really, but a powerful curiosity grabbed hold of him and before he knew it, he was curled over the book, reading it furtively in the office, praying Dan wouldn’t find him.

* * *

“Phil,” Dan said, glaring down at himself. He’d emerged from the bathroom in a gorgeous black lace thong, garter belt and thigh highs. “ _What the fuck_. What did you...how did--?” 

“I- well see the thing…You have to understand--” Phil stammered. Despite the fact that he’d fucking _manifested_ Dan into lingerie--which was pretty fucking mindblowing--Phil was a simple man with pretty simple needs and Dan looking like fucking desert spoke to the most base parts of his mind. Explaining sudden magical ability when confronted by _Dan_ looking like that was simply impossible. Still stammering, Phil hooked a finger under one tie of the garter, which Dan slapped away. 

“No really Phil, what the fuck is happening here?” 

“I uh...I learned to manifest? I guess? Maybe?” 

Dan’s eyes did that scrunched up, pissed off, skeptical thing they always did. The whole look was undermined by the beautiful smokey eye look Phil apparently wanted Dan in.This manifesting thing was awesome, apparently he was manifesting desires he didn’t even quite realize he had. 

“Phil that’s bullshit, people can’t just _manifest_ things!” 

“Dan, did you or did you not suddenly appear wearing this get up?” Phil pointed out. Dan huffed. His hair was in beautiful perfect curls. Phil wanted him on his knees so he could wreck them with rough hands while Dan sucked him off. 

“Phil! Earth to Phil!” Dan snapped his fingers in front of Phil’s face. “Stop thinking about me blowing you and focus.” 

“Can’t we focus after you blow me?” Phil whined. “You’ll never blieve what happened anyway so in the meantime can’t I just fuck your face first?” 

Dan bit his lip and looked down at himself. His cock was already plumping up--tarted up like he was there really was no hiding it. He huffed. 

“Fine. But then you have got to explain what the fuck you’ve done this time.” 

Phil wanted to protest the _this time_ but knew he had no grounds to stand on. Even removing supernatural elements, their lives were often marked by what they’d taken to calling ‘ _Just Phil Things._ ’

* * *

Dan was still panting, mouth red and spit slicked, forehead against Phil’s thigh, when the interrogation resumed. 

“One more time,” he said, voice rough, “Do you really expect me to believe--”

“Dan, shut up.” Phil hauled Dan up by the armpits. His body felt like jello, but not so much that he wasn’t able to manhandle Dan onto the bed and spread his legs as wide as they could go. He ran shaking hands up the insides of Dan’s pale thighs, slipping his thumb under the fabric of the thong. 

“I just don’t- _oh_ -understand,” Dan sait, then bit back a moan when Phil pressed said thumb against this hole with confident pressure. 

“How about you let me finger fuck you while I explain,” Phil offered. He kissed the apex of Dan’s thighs. Dan pushed him again, but only to roll over and fumble for their lube. Dan’s ass in skimpy black lace was even more spectacular than his cock. Phil loomed over him, took the lube without ceremony and pressed on Dan’s shoulder until he took the hint and settled on his belly. 

It was a bit of work, to get Dan’s ass the right height, and to keep the g-string out of the way in order for Phil to eat him out as thoroughly as he wanted, but he made it work. Dan, as per usual, didn’t shut up for a minute the whole time. Even while being wrecked Dan still managed to beg in this lovely, slutty way, while also demanding answers about the whole manifesting thing. Phil was really more one track minded about these things so he kept on keeping on until Dan’s hole was soft and wet and more than ready for Phil to slip two fingers into it. 

Once he’d curled them just right, it was nothing to keep Dan shut up, to reduce him to a whimpering, begging mess until he came all over their bed. 

“Fuck,” Dan said when he rolled over and onto the wet spot. “I am not changing these sheets.” 

“Me either.” 

“You know, if this ‘ _manifesting_ ’ thing is real, can’t you just manifest clean sheets onto the bed?” 

Phil paused, took stock, imagined clean sheets with all his will to no avail. “Nah, mate. I don’t think I care enough.” 

“What?!” 

“You’re already in the wet spot. It’ll dry by tonight,” Phil yawned. 

“You are truly disgusting, d’you know that?” 

“That’s what he said,” Phil said, drowsy and sated, basking in his come-free side of the bed. 

“That _is_ what he said you dingbat.” 

“Awesome,” Phil said, closing his eyes, rolling over, and hauling Dan closer to himself roughly. 

“Are you really about to nap now? Phil you nee-” 

“Oh my god, I did something magical, whatever, just nap with me already,” Phil snapped. Dan stilled and then sighed. He ran his fingers through Phil’s hair, which was quite heavenly, and fell directly into a heavy sleep.

* * *

They didn’t speak of it again. By the time they’d both woken up it was late in the afternoon. Dan was back in regular pants and still complaining about the dried come on the sheets. Phil was so grateful he didn’t have to try to explain the stupid manifesting thing he didn’t ask when Dan had changed into his pants, nor why he hadn’t simply cleaned himself up a bit when he did. The thought that Dan had simply, magically, gone from black lace to blue Calvins while they were sleeping flickered through his mind before Phil squashed it. 

He’d manifested Dan into something beautiful and jaw droppingly hot, but post-fuck, the whole situation _was_ a little scary. Phil was excellent at ignoring issues he didn’t want to face and so he did what he did best and ignored the shit out of it. He couldn’t quite say why Dan was choosing to ignore the whole thing, but he assumed it had something to do with sheer stubbornness. If Dan didn’t admit something unexplainable happened, he wouldn’t have to adjust his brain to accept magical things _could_ happen.

So the Howell-Lester home moved on simply by forcing some blissful ignorance into their lives. 

That was, of course, until the cactus incident.

* * *

Dan was off for a run, wearing disgustingly tight and sexy running leggings, the day it happened. See, Phil had _tried_ to entice Dan into a different kind of exercise to no avail. This wasn’t uncommon when Dan wore his running gear, nor when he came home gross and dripping with sweat. 

But the begging never worked, either before or after a run, so instead Phil was indulging in a sensible wank. Too lazy to move, he brazenly stretched out on the couch, eyes closed and mind wandering. If he wanted, he could pull up some wonderful photos of Dan on his phone, or even his not-so-secret folder of men’s abs and asses. Sometimes Phil struggled to focus, even when jerking off. But that particular day he’d been feeling too lazy and a bit petulant. Maybe if he dragged it out long enough, he’d reasoned, Dan would come home just as Phil was on the edge of orgasm. He’d have no choice but to wrap a hot, sweaty hand around Phil’s cock, to let Phil mouth the salt from his neck, fingers in Dan’s damp curls--okay yes, he had a thing for Dan sweaty and disgusting, sue him. 

The very thought of it brought Phil much too close to orgasm, much sooner than he wanted. He calmed himself down by opening his eyes and counting every boring, unsexy thing in their flat that he could see. He ignored the table he’d bent over countless times for Dan to fuck him on, the other couch Dan had given him a weird, disjointed and slightly uncomfortable but mindblowing lapdance on last week, and of course the rug, which had seen things no one should speak of. 

_On_ the table, however, was a row of dead and half dead succulents in their pots and terrariums. Dan had lined them up there just that morning, sadly musing over their inability to keep plants healthy. It had seemed a bit ‘parade of shame’ to Phil at the time, but did the trick beautifully just then. Nothing like a dead cactus to stave off a great orgasm. 

Phil closed his eyes and went back to daydreaming, only suddenly he was thinking of that day with the mystery lingerie. It was a thing Phil forced himself not ot think about all the time, but it was much harder when he was jerking himself off, hard and squelching wet with too much lube and _fuck_ if he wasn’t going--

He opened his eyes again, stared at the dead plants lined up in a neat little row of judgement, but still could only think of Dan in black garters and the slick warmth of his hole under Phil’s tongue and _fuck_ he was gone, eyes slamming shut, come pumping over his hand and onto his belly. 

Post-orgasm was a wonderful, hazy time. Phil basked in it for as long as he could, which was until he was cold and a bit grossed out by the stickiness of his come and simultaneously worried that he’d used too much lube and stained the couch. 

Slight worry was nothing, _nothing_ like the panic and fear that lanced through him when he opened his eyes to find their sad, wilting little cactuses wearing the tiniest black lace getups imaginable. 

“What the fu-” Phil cut himself off at the sound of the door opening. _Fuckfuckfuck_ , he could _not_ let Dan see this. Still naked, Phil scooped all of the plants, even the fucking still prickly cactus, out of their containers and ran to the kitchen, slamming them into the bin. Dan was calling for him from the lounge. Phil frantically unrolled a mass quantity of kitchen roll, dampened it and wiped the come off of his belly before shoving it into the bin to hide his shame. There was dirt trailing a path on the floor that must have fallen from the plants. Phil, still naked, used still more kitchen roll to wipe it up, hoping Dan wouldn’t see too much of a mess in the lounge. 

“ _Phil_!” Dan screeched. “Jesus how much lube did you need?! If you’re going to jerk off can’t you do it somewhere where your ridiculous need for a vat of lube won’t ruin our furniture?” 

“Soz,” Phil called, turning in panicked circles in the kitchen. There was nothing like trying to hide NC-17 cactuses with your dick hanging out and dirt everywhere. He heard Dan’s sigh as he approached the kitchen, so he tossed the soiled kitchen roll in the garbage and started washing his hands. 

“Wow, you really went for it, didn’t you,” Dan said. His hand on Phil’s hip was hot. He kissed the back of Phil’s neck absently. 

“It’s all your fault,” Phil said, meaning it across the board. “Wearing those pants and refusing to fuck me.” 

“Maybe later,” Dan said, slapping Phil’s ass slightly, pulling away to tap it again. Phil sighed. Dan was slightly obsessed with Phil’s ass jiggle. One would think ten years would be enough to get over it, but if anything, Dan seemed to enjoy it more now than he had when he first discovered it. 

“You should be so lucky,” Phil said weakly. He willed Dan to shower so he could empty the bin without him noticing. 

Whether it was his crazy new ability to manifest or simply Dan’s ingrained post-run habits, thankfully he did go shower. Phil threw his clothes on in a desperate rush--later realizing his shirt was inside out and backwards--before fleeing their flat with the incriminating evidence in tow. 

Later, Dan thanked Phil for clearing out the dead plants so they could try again with new ones. As a lovely bonus he then decided to fuck Phil over said table. There was a moment when Dan began to undress him where Phil felt a rush of fear that he might accidentally manifest something odd again. Thankfully, Dan’s hands, mouth and dick were insistent and relentless and Phil could think of nothing but the near painful pleasure of his knees grinding into the carpet, the edge of the table biting into his belly, and Dan’s large cock absolutely drilling both th sensible and insensible thought from his mind.

* * *

It didn’t happen again for weeks. And okay, maybe that was partly because he refused to jerk off anymore, but that was fine, it was No Nut November anyway. He’d never actually _done_ No Nut November before and really didn’t intend on doing it again, but it was as handy an excuse as any just then. Especially when Dan asked him what had gotten into him because the longer he went without masturbating, the more he wanted from Dan (surely No Nut November was simply about jerking off and not actually...nutting, right? He hadn’t done his research). 

By December he couldn’t justify not jerking off anymore by blaming it on the month. Plus it was making him a little crazy. Not that he didn’t love fucking Dan but sometimes a guy just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, yeah? 

Absolute desperation was the only excuse he could find for what he did next. Dan had been insistent on a writing in solitude night, which Phil supported in his rational brain. Being the utter tease that he was, Dan had the audacity to bend over to retrieve his laptop _with Phil in the same room_. The utter cheek of it all, honestly! Of _course_ Phil had no choice but to pull down his pants, spit in his hand and start jerking himself hard and rough and with the kind of abandon that meant he had no control over his body or brain. 

Poor Norman. It had taken Phil a full minute to get off, thirty seconds to come down, and four seconds to decide it wasn’t too gross to just wipe his hand on the joggers he was pulling up when he saw it. 

“Dan!” he yelped, and then knowing Dan probably had his door closed, yelled as loudly as he could. 

“What? Didn’t I just-” Dan stomped into the room and stopped, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open as he stared at the fishtank Phil was gesticulating at frantically. 

“Phil what the ever loving fucking-” 

“ _I don’t know,_ ” Phil wailed, pulling the top off of Norman’s tank with shaking hands. Thankfully--or magically--Norman seemed to be doing just fine, small swathes of black lace trailing around him, rippling much like his fins. Of course he was swimming up toward his leaf, which he rested on gracefully while Phil twisted his hands together and Dan paced back and forth. 

“How do we--? How do I make it stop?” Phil said. “Why does this keep happening?”

“Keep happening?” Dan cried, sharp and loud and annoying. 

“Well, see…” 

“Phil, I swear to god--” 

“It only happened one other time, with the plants, you see--” 

“The plants? What plants?” Dan was still pointing at the fish, as if Norman were somehow also responsible for this mess. 

“The dead ones? That day I accidentally stained the couch? I was, well, y’know..” 

“Wait a minute,” Dan said, eyes suddenly lazer focused on Phil’s joggers and the nasty mess of drying come on them. “Does this happen every time you jerk off?” 

“Maybe? I don’t know. After the mess with the plants I just...didn’t. Until today.” 

“Phil it’s been _weeks_ ,” Dan said, incredulous and red cheeked. 

“I know, it’s been _awful_ but I didn’t know what to do, or how to make it stop but then, your ass and your jeans, why are you even wearing those if you don’t want me to get off?” Phil gestured wildly at Dan’s torn jeans. 

“I just had a meeting Phil!” Dan was getting shrill, which Phil knew was because _he_ was getting shrill, both of them still wildly pointing at poor Norman, who, all things considered, seemed fine with the situation. 

“Phil, you’ve got to stop doing this,” Dan said, one hand on his chest and the other in his hair. 

“I don’t know how,” Phil said. “The book didn’t tell me how to _un_ manifest! I don't even know _how_ I’m doing it honestly, or why it’s always the same thing, only it seems to target any living thing near me!” 

“With lingerie?” Dan screeched. 

“It must be because it happened for the first time when I was with you. You know that one time--” 

“We swore we’d never speak of it again Phil.” 

“Well no, technically we didn’t--” 

“We both _thought_ it! Same thing!” 

“Fuck-a- _duck_ , this is the kind of thing that would only happen to us,” Phil said, then tapped the glass near Norman’s leaf gently. Norman just rested, regally bedecked in his new finery. 

“Us? You mean _you_ ,” Dan said.

“Well of course not just me, you toolbox,” Phil was beginning to feel rather cross. “It’s not like I’m thinking of anyone else in lingerie but you.” 

“Please, surely anyone who wanks as much as you--” 

“You wank all the time!” Phil accused. 

“Not while looking at a ‘secret’ folder of KJ Apa’s abs!” 

“I never imagine _him_ in fancy pants, that would just be odd.” 

“Phil, I hate to break it to you but you _are_ odd.” 

“Oh fuck off, we know that but, still. This??” He gestured at Norman again. Tears prickled his eyes. How on earth were they ever going to fix this? Surely Norman couldn’t rest on a leaf forever. 

“We’re going to find your fucking book and figure out how to un-curse you,” Dan said with authority. 

“Curse? How is wanting you in sexy underwear a curse?” Phil was still feeling a bit sore over the accusation that he’d imagine anyone but Dan like that. 

“That’s not the curse dummy,” Dan said, taking Phil’s hand and tugging him toward the stairs. “All you have to do is ask and I’ll wear anything for you, you know that.” 

This was true. Dan had very little shame and quite a lot of love for sex. 

“Phil did you even wash your hands after you wanked?” Dan pulled their hands apart and grimaced. 

“I didn’t have time! I opened my eyes and Norman was all sexed up and I panicked.” 

“Touche.” Dan said, wiping his hand on his own pants. “Okay, so where’d you hide it?” 

“What? This?” Phil pointed to the mess on his pants. “I didn’t.” 

“No you buffoon, _the book_.”

“Oh!” Phil scrunched his eyes in thought. “I think I hid it under the mattress on your side of the bed.” 

“Why on mine?” Dan asked, turning toward their room. 

“Well it seemed less likely that you’d search your side of the bed for something _I’d_ hidden.” Phil pointed out, feeling rather sensible about his logic. 

“What if I wanted to hide something?” Dan asked. 

“Well you’d obviously hide it on my side.” 

Dan paused. “I’m rather annoyed that this is true. But I’m also a little annoyed that you felt you had to _hide it_ in the first place because I didn’t know we hid things from each other.” 

Phil hugged Dan from behind, even though they were both still walking. They tripped into a wall, but he didn’t let go. Dan was right, they never really had anything they’d needed to hide from each other before. 

“I’m sorry, I know I fucked up,” Phil said against the back of Dan’s neck. Dan squirmed. 

“It’s all right, I guess. We both wanted to act like nothing had happened, I can see why you might have done it.” 

“Good.” Phil pulled away. “Because I don’t remember there being anything about stopping being able to manifest things in there but there must be something that explains why it’s all going so wrong.”

* * *

There wasn’t. Not really. 

What there _was_ , however, was an epilogue Phil _swore_ hadn’t been there in the first place. Dan read it first, breaking into hysterical laughter before letting Phil read it. 

_Congratulations_ , it said, _If you’ve come this far, surely you’ve learned your lesson about toying with things one shouldn’t muck about with. Just because you’re psychic doesn’t mean you can’t make a big mess where you shouldn’t._

_I made heaps of money by selling this book, and I’ve got to tell you, it really wasn’t worth it. Manifesting your money into my bank account has only led to Midas Touch levels of misery. See, when I promised a money back guarantee, I was lying._

_I desperately, desperately beg you to ask for your money back. I’ll pay for shipping, handling, and a bonus should you want extra money just because I was being a twat. I’m pretty sure this book is cursed, and those who have returned it have promised me their lives went back to normal as soon as they put it in the post. I absolutely promise that I burn each book upon receipt. I think I might get fined soon for setting fires but honestly, I think it might actually help._

_Yours,_

_Doctor Charlatan_

* * *

“Dan. _Dan_ ,” Phil whispered, poking Derek the dimple. 

“Fucking what?” Dan said, mostly asleep, face squashed into the pillow. 

“You can’t go to sleep, I’m totally zazzed.” 

Dan rolled over and heaved the sort of sigh only the mightily put-upon could muster. “Only you get more energy from fucking like animals, I swear.” 

“It’s not my fault you drank so much water! You know how it gets me when you need to go like that,” Phil whined. 

“I even made you clean the bathroom after!” Dan complained. “You’re always tired and whining when you do the cleaning up.” 

“Well when it’s regular cleaning, sure. This doesn’t count.” Phil pouted. Dan poked his belly. 

“Why d’you need me up anyway?” 

“Because if you don’t stay up with me I’m liable to go watch something on the telly and god knows what I’ll buy this time. Norman won’t ever trust me again.” 

Dan sat up. “Norman is fine! As soon as you put that book in the post things went back to normal. Though you do make a good point. But, I thought we’d agreed you’d never watch commercials again.” 

They had. Rarely did they watch anything with ads anymore, but if a stray one happened to cross their path, Phil covered his ears and closed his eyes.

“I’m weak,” Phil admitted. It was late and he really was prone to doing stupid things at three am when left to his own devices. Fish in lingerie might have been the consequence of highest magnitude when it came to poor insomnia decision making, but Phil wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from another sleep deprived mistake again. 

“You really are,” Dan said, half fond and half annoyed. “It’s all right, I suppose. That’s how I bagged you.”

“What?” Phil poked Derek again, because he could. 

“All those late night talks? I had to make you fall for me somehow,” Dan said. 

“You utter twatwaggle,” Phil said, then continued over Dan’s laughter. “I fell for you in broad daylight, night had nothing to do with it. Trying to get you to blow me in a haunted asylum though…”

“Let’s not go there,” Dan said quickly. “How about we find something really stupid to do right now?” 

Phil sat, then pulled Dan up too. “Will it come with a money back guarantee?” 

“Absolutely, feel free to return me to sender.” 

Phil leaned in for a kiss, missing Dan’s lips by a mile in the dark, accidentally getting a nostril. Dan laughed, loud and utterly too much like he always was, and framed Phil’s face with wide palms so that he could, with accuracy and intent, bite the tip of Phil’s nose in retaliation.

**Author's Note:**

> If, for some reason, you liked this, or it made you laugh (or if you just want to point and laugh), you can [reblog](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/632602100698955777)on tumblr. It'll probably be on twitter at some poing, bc I now have phandom twitter! @ArayaJude if you wanna follow :D


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